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Active Games => Games Games Games? => Quis Separabit: a UA RP => : Teuthic June 23, 2014, 02:33:18 PM
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So, let's get this started off!
Character sheets: Quis Separabit characters and how they relate (https://docs.google.com/presentation/d/1L0meCXpitSBz6NqI5sLEEMQfdtxbiWPXxA716bgkPZY/edit#slide=id.g354816332_20)
I'll leave it up to Oísin to describe how we got to where we are, since he's written that up already, and he's the one in charge here anyways. I'll write up a backstory after that's posted.
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The light of the sun peaks out through the clouds, which though dark are scattered enough to see some blue between them. A light rain falls down on you, a gentle shower which will pass momentarily.
You stand outside of a Georgian apartment at the address given; 671, Marrion Square. The Address of a Colonel Binton Blood.
You can see from where you stand, St Stephen's Green, where not so long ago the Easter Rising took place. For now, the guns have fallen silent over Dublin, save the occaisional bit of violence. Still, you can feel the war and tension in the silent February streets, as the Grafton streets are silent.
You hold the letter which detailed this address and look towards the door. It is imposing but the knocker lies before you; you can find the matter that the whole letter was written for.
Or you can wait for the other ones writteh in the old address; which detailed the names of many old friends and foes alike.
You pause for a moment to consider before taking the final step.
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I walk to the door, and stop myself before I knock on the door. Best to wait out front for the others, never come first, don't be the first to speak. A moment of vertigo, and I sit down at the stairs, lighting a cigarette: nicotine will keep me awake for a little while longer. Let the others come.
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I began walking to the door and then recognise a very old friend that I've been helping find his feet, I welcome him with a warm smile and a wave then say "how are you, you daft bastard?"
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Pulling my cap over my face, I round the corner onto Merrion Square, spy a familiar face, and duck back into the lane I came from. I need to work up the courage to approach, after so many years apart - and with luck I can hear snippets of the conversation and find a place to make a dramatic entrance. [Feeding My Obsession]
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"Oh, hullo. Bit tired: I had to walk across Dublin to even get here. I couldn't afford to hire a cart. How are you doing, Murphy?"
I stub out the cigarette, standing up to stretch. "Where are the others?" (An action-packed beginning)
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"Oh, you know, same old shite, as for the others..." I look around idly "Well, I think only them and the man upstairs knows where they are"
"so this Blood guy, seems pretty ominous eh? Guess you got the letter too?"
(I'm looking around to spot if there are any of the others around)
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"Aye, I did. Not sure why he needs me, though: I've, uh, other things on my mind these days. It's been a while since I've done any investigation." I lose focus for a moment, something else on my mind, then look around. "If I don't see anyone else soon, I'm going inside." (I look around for things of note)
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Murphy and Cormac notice a fellow who seems to be spying on them and an approaching man who appears to be a priest who is clutching a letter similar to friend own. There's also a handful of people wandering around, including a constable, though they aren't of much interest to him.
Otherwise, the house seems relatively unnotable except that it has some regimental colours in the top window.
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"Well, that man of the church over there looks like he's coming our way, maybe he's something to do with us" I say, pointing in the direction of the priest "and there's a creepy looking guy over there" pointing at the creepy guy
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As the two at the door point in my direction, I look as nonchalant and excited as possible, as quickly as possible, and bustle down the street towards Cormac and Murphy with open arms as though I had just noticed them.
"I thought so! Murphy! A sight for sore eyes. And bless me, Cormac, it's been too long. Far, far too long. How did the United States treat you?" [Keeping My Shit Together]
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I approach the two men standing on the corner with letters. "Did (insert NPC) call you here about his daughter?".
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Colin realizes that they know he's snooping. He breaks into a cold sweat looking at both of then and everything in him wants to flee; but the promise of 250 pounds is too much to run away from.
He feels compelled to say something to excuse himself, even if he would only be digging himself deeper... Silence simply wouldn't do. They wouldn't trust him; he'd be exiled from the group and left to fend for himself. He'd be where he was at his lowest before even getting the chance to redeem himself.
[Mark 1 Crack, Jomon]
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"Yeah, terrible business that, your face looks familiar, did I meet you at some time in my travels?" I say to the priest.
(I can't think of how to respond to Colin cause don't know the result of the reveal.)
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Trying to keep my composure under the stares, I babble to keep the silence from descending.
"Cormac, Cormac. Too long, indeed. I figured you'd at least have come back for Fiona's funeral, but I can-"
I trail off, realizing I had never actually written to Cormac about his childhood sweetheart's - and my sister's - untimely death.
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I walk up to the group of men "are you here about Col. Blood's daughter too?"
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"Fiona's dead." The name rings about in my head for a moment, bouncing back and forth, not quite taking hold. "She was a symbol more than anything else. A face to put onto an idea. I was not as close to her as I could have been; the relationship defined nothing and ended without meaning."
(Time to spout occult secrets! If I succeed, I want the MC to tell me something new and interesting first, and not sound like I'm full of shit second.)
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As Cormac speaks of Fiona, his eyes get a bit wilder and some sweat runs down his face. His exhaustion is almost palatable to his companions and his ramblings sound half mad. Aside from that, it's hard to hear a man call your sister "a symbol" than a person or that it wasn't "meaningful"; she loved that bastard for all his flaws.
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Genuinely concerned, and relieved that attention is drifting from me, I take Cormac by the shoulders and look into his tired eyes.
"Are you all right? You look... different. Let's get you inside, you need to sit down. We'll get our host to fix you a stiff glass, you can tell me all about the States and..." And whatever the hell's gone wrong with you, that you'd speak that way about Fiona.
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"Oh begorrah, now I recognise you! it's been a while, Collin. Also what in hell is wrong with you Cormac, she was a human being, have some damned humanity!" I say, getting a little flustered
"So... anyone gonna actually knock on the door? or is it too nice out in this lovely weather?" I say, with a slight sarcastic lilt to the weather comment.
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I knock thrice, one hand still reassuringly on Cormac's shoulder.
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By the third knock, someone was already by the door.
Colin and the others were greeted by the Colonel himself, in a rather heavy looking Persian overcoat. Though he was almost entirely grey with his hair combed mostly back, he maintained a remarkable look of youthful determination and a strong rather square build to back this up. He had on him as well a moustache to rival Murphy's.
"Come in," he said, "We have rather serious matters to attend to."
He led them into a study wherein tea had already been laid out for them with some biscuits. It was, like the house, a model of the room one makes when they do not understand the current fashion but do not wish to appear out of place: Everything was simple, of decent quality but clearly there more so that it would appear proper rather than of personal taste. However, what stood out in the room was the volume of military artificats; Battalion markings and covers, a peaked cap as well as a Pith Helmet. One might also have remarked on the Persian rugs, one which sat beneath the table and another on stairs. The most unique element however, was perhaps the Zulu shield on the wall behind which lay two crossed spears.
"I am aware that this is rather... strange affair, all things stated. But I shall allow you to ask your own questions about it rather than trying restate what you have already read."
He looked over the group somewhat apprehensively, awaiting a response.
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I take a seat in whatever looks like the most comfortable chair and steeple my fingers, pointedly avoiding the tea and cakes.
"So Colonel , I know this is a rather difficult time for you, but let us start with the basics. When and where was your daughter last seen?"
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"Eliza was having an evening out with a couple friends at Temple bar," He replies, "It was ten days prior. She was separated from her friends around midnight, according to their accounts. I recieved this three days later."
He holds out a ransom note and places it on the table.
"You can see now why I had stressed that your arrival today was so urgent; the ransom is due tonight and would cost me most of my estate to pay. If you can investigate this matter and ensure her safe arrival, I would be most grateful."
The letter was brief, written out by a type writer and detailing the time of 11 PM tonight as the time for the exchange.
"If you save me the ransom, I can give you each the full price promised. If not, we may discuss the price due afterwards upon the safe return of my Elizabeth."
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I nod politely and ask more questions (I'll just list all of them for convenience)
1."Do you have any personal enemies"
2. "Did your daughter have any personal enemies or jilted suitors?"
3. "Have you experienced any previous harassment, blackmail, etc..."
4. "Do have any idea who might have done this?"
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After pouring a cup of tea for myself, and one for Cormac, I take the ransom note, running my fingers over the paper as though trying to feel the thoughts of the person who typed it.
"Colonel, if I may be so bold as to make an assumption: clearly, you are dealing with a villain who knows you are a man of means enough to pay such a sum, and thus presumably either an unrelated criminal with a very sharp eye, or an enemy with a personal stake in the matter. I don't suppose you can think of anyone with a more than monetary reason to do such a despicable thing?"
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His eyes show a glimmer of fear at the word "enemies"
"I suspect Jameson has the right idea on the matter; anyone who might constitute an enemy would be so more for ideological reasons than otherwise. I am a career army man and I have always dealt with affairs in a gentlemanly manner. However, I also stand by my views and some members of certain radical republican militia groups may imagine me as their enemy."
He pauses for a moment, "However, there is a rather notable lack of ideological grand standing or anything of the sort, which makes me suspect that it might just be someone trying to take advantage of the confusion that law enforcement is in with the recent troubes. The sharpeyed villain, whom you mention."
"There has been no blackmail or harrassment prior to this," He continued, "As to Eliza, she's an examplary daughter with no enemies nor jilted suitors to speak of; She's been dating a young man by the name of Arthur Finnegan for some time now. A letter has been sent to him about this, though he is currently on vacation in Wales."
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I down the tea in a single gulp, hardly registering the burn of the too-hot liquid on my tongue. The fuzz in my brain recedes slightly, and I pour myself another cup. And another.
(feeding my obsession to gain a forward on my next action)
"You're holding something back, Blood; I would rather your daughter rot if you aren't forthright."
(aaaaand lashing out. I want to catch him off guard first, and let him know why I'm upset second.)
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"Colonel, If you don't mind me asking, you seemed to become more than a little unsettled at my mention of enemies. Are you sure there is no one who might have a personal motive to pursue a vendetta against yourself?"
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There is a couple moments of silence until Shaemus' question shakes the Colonel to his senses
"It is a rather personal question," Blood replied with a bit of a glare at Cormac, "You will excuse me if I did not feel so inclined as to give my life story in hopes that some name might be of use. As I had stated, there are some militias who are aware of me; I recruited in Dublin during the great war. I also have some rivalries within the force. There have been some irksome gentry and tea circles here and there bothering me to support particular social causes or do my part for the Queen in this, hoping my name will mean something to them. Nothing which constituted harrassment or blackmail from any party. None of this would be resolved by the monetary gain which the note stipulates. Without any clue outside of that, I'm hardly supposed to narrow the whole affair down enough to give you a brief list of anyone who's been slightly annoyed by me."
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The previously composed priest calmly looks to his right, before his normally unfocused eyes focus balefully on Cormac. "Please excuse my acquaintance, his wretched state is not fully of his own making, but is there anything or anyone you can think of, for the sake of your daughter?"
(Asking a favor)
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"You will calm your friend down if you want another word from me," Blood replied in a stern tone, "I'm not about to give a thousand two hundred pounds stirling to men who will treat me with such disrespect in my own home."
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"Cormac, please! Have some more tea," I insist, pouring him yet another cup. I haven't yet touched mine, growing cold on the table.
"I assure you, Colonel, we - or at least I - have the utmost desire to see your daughter safely back to you. Mr. Quirk has a point in a roundabout way, though. If there are pieces to the jigsaw left in the box, so to speak, then we shall be going into a dangerous situation half-blind, and no one in that case could make any guarantees regarding safety with a clear conscience. Can you think of anyone especially suited to resort to a vicious tactic like kidnap?"
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I until this point have been pacing idly in the background, taking in the reactions and observations and trying to think back to what I suspected from the letter and my past studies of written histories.
I take the opportunity to get myself a cup of tea and bring the tea and the tray of biscuits back to the nearest free seat, one can never have enough biscuits.
"Calm down please, Colonel, nobody is daring to accuse you, we are merely asking if you have anyone at all, even a friend, that you suspect could have reason."
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"I can say honestly," Blood looked into his tea and said, "I can't imagine anyone who would kidnap Eliza. Especially not for money."
He looked over at the priest, "I can give you the names and address of her friends, however, if that might be help, providing you can ensure that your friend doesn't bark at them as well."
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"I'll have you know, you asked for me, sir: I had never heard your name before your letter, addressed to me, and I just so happened to be on a different continent, found me. But if you don't care for my methods, I'll take my leave right now."
(Lashing out again to keep him off balance.)
With that, I stalk out of the room, hoping Colin will notice an old gambit.
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"Cormac!" I give the Colonel a theatrically apologetic grimace, and abandon my tea completely to follow Cormac out of the room in a hurry.
Once out of eyeshot, before even acknowledging Cormac's presence, I immediately begin rifling through anything and everything searchable in the next room, muttering to him without looking up.
"That was tremendously impolite of you in there. I didn't realize living in the United States would have such a pervasive and insidious effect on a fellow's manners so quickly!"
[Feeding My Obsession]
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I steady vases he bumps and move furniture he knocks out of place back in place, knowing exactly what he'll do.
"Well, at least I don't stick my nose into where I shouldn't: you're a grown man now, Colin, this is shameful."
(rolling +hX with him to give him a bonus digging through stuff)
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"This from a man who just told a prospective employer his daughter could rot." I'm even having a bit of fun now. It feels almost like the old boys are back together.
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After a few moments, Blood took a pen and scribbled three names and addresses onto a page.
"Jane Willson - n. 21 Fitzwilliam
Laura Fauntaine - n. 4 Upper Mound Street
Amy Hafner- n. 16 Leeson Street"
"I ask that you do not upset either the ladies nor the good gentlemen of these houses," Blood stated, "Perhaps leave Quirk to something else. He has changed a great deal since he left; his reputation painted the portrait of a very different man."
Meanwhile...
Nothing obvious really appeared necessarily interesting initially to Colin, until he noticed a waste paper bin. The maid had left a lot of things in this bin, including half finished food. But it occured to Colin in that moment that it might be the perfect place to hide a secrets might be hidded. You tear through the trash, careful that none fall out, and manage to see a crumbled up sheet of paper.
Cormac sees his partner tearing through a trash can. He remembers all of the things that the bastard has done, his slimy desperation and small betrayals. This is another power game for him. He can't believe that Colin led into another one of his games. In the core of his being, Cormac just wanted to punch the bastard for dragging him back into this garbage.
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The weedy little fuck hasn't changed. I put my face in my hand and try not to engage: if I keep him at an arm's distance, he can't do any damage. Storming off was just for show, too: starting a fight won't help the cover.
(Keeping my shit together!)
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Cormac manages not to punch the seedy little fucker but he feels something snap inside him. He'd snapped at a guy for a momentary pause, even as he was offered a small fortune. This bastard, he wanted to punch but he didn't. He couldn't. And he didn't know why.
He took a deep breath and felt himself just crack a little bit more inside.
[Mark 1 Crack]
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The priest quietly gets up and dusts off his jacket. "Thank you very much sir, we will be sure not to be too harsh with the ladies delicate constitutions. Now if you'll excuse me, I'll just go and check in with my erstwhile associates. He slips out of the room as his malfeasance sense ticks away at him.
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Shaemus arrives in the room to see Colin digging through the man's trash and Cormac visibly anxious and angry.
Meanwhile,
Blood looks over at Murphy
"You look like a sensible fellow," He says to him, "I am sorry to have gotten you invovled again with these ruffians, you appear to be slightly more cooth than the rest. Your partner seems rather... unpleasant, to speak frankly. I had known him only by reputation previously, but he was not like this before America, that wretched colony. I shall abide by my offer of reward for retrieving both the ransom and my daughter, or even merely my daughter but I ask that either you or Fitzpatrick meet with me for these things, rather than Mr. Quirk."
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Shaemus takes in the situation unfolding before him, standing silently for a moment, taking in the inexplicable situation before him before deciding that Colin is the debacle of the moment. "Why are you picking through that trash bin son?"
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I have been entirely pre-occupied with tea and biscuits ever since hearing of the possible routes of questioning, I suddenly get back into my sense, stand up and say "where in hells name did they go?" before remembering my manners, pulling myself together and then following with "erm...Colonel."
(in character way of saying, oops I've not replied for a bit and am now apparently sat there awkwardly with Colonel Blood as everyone else wanders off.)
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Carefully keeping the paper in the trash and unseen by the others, I open the crumpled paper, read it quickly, and fold it back up, concealing it in my hand and slipping it covertly into my pocket. "Just making sure we weren't missing anything crucial. Everyone's hiding something, don't you know. With things as they are these days, I very much doubt there'd be a kidnapping in the city with non-political implications. Any more information to go on from our Colonel?"
[Feeding My Obsession]
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I give a sly smile and hold up my own sheet of paper. "Just the names of Miss Blood's lunching companions before she was taken, the colonel was less than enthusiastic about giving them up, but he acquiesced, provided we keep our good wretch on a tighter leash." And I once again give Cormac a look that is half pity, half fascination.
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"Fantastic! We could separate and visit them all at once, or make our rounds as a unit. Were I a young lady, I suspect I would prefer to be questioned by one or two strange men at my doorstep as opposed to four at once, but we've certainly time for either approach. What do you think?"
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I have made apologies to Colonel Blood for my compatriots leaving him so abruptly, explaining it is to be expected of them.
And I caught up with them a bit ago but have been idly listening to gleam information.
I butt into the conversation "Well, I would tend to agree with Collin here, it makes far more sense to not frighten these ladies..." I pause to think for a moment before continuing "...So shall we split into pairs then and question these ladies? I'd suggest you handle Cormac [Pointing at Collin] he seems to be more fragile than usual."
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It takes me a moment to register Shaemus' comment: in another person, the words would be designed to attack. I sigh, not offended: pretending outrage has taken enough energy.
"Do not call me a wretch again, Shaemus, especially in public: it makes you sound like a pompous fool, and pompous American fools are targets at the moment. I have enough on my mind without having to worry about watching my back because I associated with the wrong person. If you want to hide the information you've received from the Colonel, expect the same treatment from me. And expect no payment from the colonel, as we blunder in the dark and the girl dies."
I lean against an uncovered portion of wall. "I agree with Murphy: the best option is to split up and try to cover as much ground as we can, but I think it's unwise to go alone. It's possible one of you may notice something I miss, or..." I stare pointedly at Shaemus and Colin. "Or someone may forget to mention an important detail. The best bet would be if we paired up. I plan on visiting the bar first, and if one of you would like to join me, I will visit one of the ladies afterward. The three of you may discuss amongst yourselves, so if you'll excuse me, I need to make an apology."
I walk to the door to Blood's parlor, take a breath, frown and step through.
"Colonel, I must apologize for my behavior. It has been a long time since I've been home, and it's upsetting to see it in such a state. Ireland's condition has been keeping me up, and that has put me on edge. I will see to it that your daughter is returned, no matter the danger I find myself in."
(Humble: asking a favor, specifically for him to ignore my outburst.)
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The Colonel gives a smile, though it is slight and serious, "I understand. With everything that has gone on, between the War, Sinn Féin and now even my Daughter... it is as though the world has gone mad. You have also made a long trip for my sake."
"I will withhold my judgement until our next meeting. Which I hope will fare better," He pauses for a moment, "You have done well for many people, who've spoken highly of you. I do not doubt you're a good person and I only hope we might be on better terms."
He stands up and offers a handshake, "I wouldn't withhold any information that I believe would help my daughter's case. If you do find a lead on an enemy who you believe would have reason to kidnap my daughter, I will tell you all I know of the person."
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We shake hands, and I nod. "Until I have more information, then. Good day."
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SCENE II
It takes only about half an hour to reach your respective destinations. There is some talk of pairing off, but haggling and squabbling soon breaks out and no one, it seems, is bothered to share any address which Shaemus gave them.
Cormac
You walk into Temple Bar. It's rather empty compared to how packed it is at night, you suppose it's only natural that it might be a few hours before most really intend to start drinking. You see a bartender cleaning a glass idly, while the handful of customers already at the pub drink contentedly. He looks like a man in his mid-thirties, wearing a flatcap, white button down with rolled up sleeves and an apron, with a rather gruff appearance over all.
Colin
You arrive at n. 21 Fitzwilliam, you knock at the door and are greeted by a young woman. She has red hair, done up in English fashion. Over all, you recognize her as wearing some of the more recent London fashions, though wearing it fairly casually.
"Uh, hello? Are you an associate of my father?"
Shaemus
You arrive at n. 4 Upper Mound Street, after knocking at the door, you are greeted by a professional looking man in a shirt and vest, he has a sharp moustache, dark hair and hazel eyes. He looks at you with a sort of curiousity, then says in a rather uppercrust Parisian accent,
"Hello? How may I help you?"
Murphy
You arrive at n. 16 Leeson Street, you are greeted by a rather... Bohemian looking young man. He looks slightly dishevelled and tired. Inside, you can see that this appearance extents throughout the house; canvases, paintings, sketches line the halls, some finished, some unfinished, some... well, you're not entirely sure. You assume that it is fashionable on the continent, however.
He looks to Murphy with a disinterested gaze and a distinct Bavarian accent, "Ya? What are you looking for?"
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I tip my hat & bow my head, just like Mother taught me. "You must be Miss Willson! I apologize for this unexpected visit, but I am in fact an associate of the Colonel, your friend Eliza's father. Colin Jameson, private investigator, at your service."
I sigh, somewhat theatrically, as though it pains me to stick my nose into other peoples' business like this, and affect a more sombre demeanour. "As I'm sure you know, Miss Blood has been missing these past few days, and her poor father is terribly anxious. I've been hired to hopefully resolve the matter & discover Miss Blood's whereabouts. I wonder if you would mind me asking a few questions about the night you last saw her?"
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"Aha, sorry to have bothered you there fella, I was told a Miss Hefner lived here. Can you get her for me?"
I await his response with a certain sharp look of it not being a request, hoping that it would give an air of me being somebody in authority.
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n. 21 Fitzwilliam (Colin)
"Not at all," Jane says, "Though I have been asked before and I do not think that I said much of interest, I'd be happy to say what I could."
"Michael is upstairs, he is a sort of a man for odds and ends around the house, I can ring him down if you would fancy tea Mr. James'n," She leads Colin in. The house has a similar look and layout to that of Blood's, but it is slightly newer and larger. One can see a taste for more modern appearance, especially in smaller items, which seem to have been picked out by the daughter. One can recognize in the portraits that she is the youngest child with two older brothers and her mother is conspicuously absent from the family Portrait.
She leads you to the Kitchen; you can hear the sounds of someone upstairs, but otherwise the house seems empty.
"So, is there anyway I can help out?" She looks at Colin with a slightly nervous but intrigued look, eager to see if this stranger could make any more of her story.
n. 16 Leeson Street (Murphy)
"I suppose," He shrugs. He turns and shouts up the staircase, "Hey! Amy, some bloke is here to see you."
After a moment's pause, a call comes back down, she too has a distinctly German accent though this one is harder to place, "Send him up! I'm not bothered to come down."
He shrugs again, "Well, there you go."
He moves to the side with the door, then looks over at you with a hint of sympathy, "It is not worth it, friend."
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I cast my eye about the bar, looking for anyone or anything that seems out of place. (Sharp I guess?)
I sit down at the bar in front of the bartender. "Irish coffee."
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47-48 Temple Bar Pub, Temple Bar
You looked around but see nothing out of place. You realize the incident happened a while ago, anything would have been taken by Peelers as evidence or cleaned by the staff a long time ago.
The Bartender looks at you quizzically, "We have Coffee Cream, Coffee Cream, Ratafia and Coffee Cocktail. Don't know which one you think is more Irish."
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Being shown into the kitchen like a tradesman could be seen as a snub, but I figure it's likely just down to Miss Willson's age & temperament and not meant to be insulting. "I wouldn't say no to a cup, that'd be lovely. Meanwhile, we might as well start with the basics."
I take out a small notebook & pencil, and turn to a page that isn't completely covered in scraps of poetry and peoples' names and addresses. "No doubt you've been over this at least twice before with the police & the Colonel, Miss Willson, but I'd very much like to hear your personal account of the night in question leading up to Miss Blood's disappearance."
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With that, Jane rings a bell. Promptly after, you hear the footsteps stop and then start to head towards the stairs.
"Well, last I recall she left us early, at Davy Byrne's. I think it was around nine, nine thirty. She excused herself, saying that she was going home early. Lor, Laura Fountaine that is, followed after her. The she's a bit of a worrier but I suppose these are dangerous times, or at least so I'm told."
With that Michael arrives. He is in his fifties and has a look of esteem about him, as if he were a working in an old chateau or manor rather than as a cleaner and servant of a middleclass household. He is rather large in spite of his age, with the frame of a bouncer.
"Mikey, would you be a love and do us some tea?"
He nods silently, and sets the water to boil, before returning to cleaning.
"Lor came back a couple minutes later to tell us that Liz was safe," she said as the tea boiled beside her, "If I can say, I don't think she was at all in a good mood. Liz seemed really distant that night, so I wasn't surprised that she left early. I can't say what the old girl was worried about though, though she always could be a bit aloof when the fancy struck her. Lor might be a better person to talk to in all this, which is odd considering how quiet the poor girl tends to be. Though, if I can help with anything else, I might try."
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"Interesting." I jot down 9:30, Davy Byrne's, Laura Fauntaine, and distant/aloof, before looking up at Jane again. "I don't wish to cast aspersions on your friends, so please understand I ask only in the interest of being thorough: can you tell me more about Miss Fauntaine? I don't suppose she harbours any ill will towards Miss Blood that you know of?"
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Jane goes pale as Colin mentions casting asperations.
"No, no. She's been as torn up as any of us. It's been hard to get a hold of her at all lately, she's been spending more and more time with her Father. She was always a little skittish. Poor girl is mortified now," Jane pauses and looks away, "Even I'm taking my own precautions. Don't know if I would have let you in without Mikey here."
She pauses for a moment, as Michael puts tea before them.
She lifts in a couple spoons of sugar into her tea.
"I sincerely don't think that she has anything against Miss Blood. At least, nothing that I really know about."
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"I can certainly understand your concern. The city isn't what she used to be." I underline Laura's name a second time in my notebook. "But I do expect your man would certainly prove a deterrent to anyone with ill intent; he seems as able as he is refined! How long have you been with the Willsons, my good man?" I'm awfully curious about Michael; he doesn't seem entirely the manservant type.
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And heeding the words of the Bavarian that she might be being difficult I steel myself in preparation for what exactly he means whilst walking upstairs.
When I reach the top I call back "oh which door to knock on fella?" Then having his response I walk to the bedroom door and knock purposefully, say "miss, I need to talk to you about something" and then await a response from the other side.
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n. 21 Fitzwilliam (Colin)
"A two years now," Michael said, "I was working at Trinity before. But once Sinn Féin had spread their rebellion, they dismissed me. They didn't want a Catholic on the grounds, particularly as a secretary. The Wilsons were not so concerned with religious divison and hired me shortly after."
His tone is brief but honest. You can tell that the story is one which he is rather uncomfortable telling. Particularly in polite company.
n. 16 Leeson Street (Murphy)
The Bavarian shouts up only, "You will know it when you see it."
You walk by a bedroom with the door open; it is exceedingly colourful; posters adorn the room, all over. Most defaced to some degree or another. Most notably, you can see a typewriter with a desk. Over it are posters of Karl Marx, Adam Smith and Friedrich Nietzsche. Each of them covered with various notes, in what you think is German. Though it could just be really messily written English.
On the next room, with a closed door you see an advert for a razor with a moustache drawn on. Beneath it is written "Shave Today, Spend Tomorrow."
You pass by the bathroom, which has the sink labelled as a piece of art in a gallery.
At last you come by Amy's room. She has left the door open and you immediately notice that the whole room is coated in canvases, hung on the walls or strewn on the floor. Some, you are pretty sure are original, others you recognizes as copies of famous recent modernist and surrealists paintings and some seem to be defaced prints of famous works. Amy herself is painting by the front, but takes no notice of you. She is wearing a white dress which seems to ressemble more a toga or a robe than anything proper. She has short, dark hair.
When you knock on the door, she frantically strikes accross the canvas a couple of times. You can these ones are hasty and rather out of place.
"There. It is finished," Amy says looking over her canvas, "You may come in."
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"It's comforting to know there are still those in Dublin who value character over creed." I sip my tea wistfully. "What does your father do, Miss Willson, if you don't mind me asking?"
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"Well I'm sorry to bother you miss, Blood's daughter is missing and I just want to know if you can help me by telling me where you last seen her and what she was doing? He told me you were a good friend of hers, is all."
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I ring the doorbell
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I put on my best Boston Brahmin accent and ask "Good morning sir, my name is Father Fitzpatrick, would it possible for me to speak to your daughter?"
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"Sorry, it's an Americanism. Coffee Cocktail: light on whiskey, heavy on coffee." I hand him the money, tipping generously. "I'm looking for a girl at the moment: when's the last time you saw Eliza Blood? Green eyes, brunette, athletic."
(Asking a favor!)
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n. 21 Fitzwilliam (Colin)
"He owns and manages an upscale pub," She replies, "We do good business off of Trinity and the area, which is how he heard of Michael's troubles."
She looks up with a mix of slight discomfort, mild confusion and genuine curiousity; "Is this all relevant to your investigation?"
n. 16 Leeson Street (Murphy)
"Eliza, you mean?" the girl replies, without taking her eyes off of her own canvas, "I saw her, she left us for some other fellow. Strange, a little dangerous looking but she was an bold girl. It is why I liked her. I didn't realize at the time how right I was about the man."
There is a sad and whistful tone to her as she speaks, yet her movements and body language are almost robotic; you have the impression that she is completely wrapped up in her art, even if she is carrying on the conversation with you.
4 Upper Mound Street (Shaemus)
"What is this in regards to?" The man looks down at Shaemus, still not quite willing to welcome him in; perhaps less so now.
47-48 Temple Bar, Temple Bar Pub (Cormac)
The barman made his tipjar known, with a passing gesture as he handed Cormac his Cocktail.
"Miss Blood? She's not a regular by any means but I've seen her around a couple times. Decent tipper, good family, not like that new Falfner friend of hers," he paused at this point to make his distaste for that particular character known with a cough, "Shame about the whole affair but all I can only tell you that she left Temple Bar around seven or eight. I was on shift that night. I think they mentioned Davy Byrne's. Miss Blood was fond of the place, if I recall. I imagine she's less so now."
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"are you saying that you let your friend go off with a strange man without even finding out where she was going? She's your friend damn it! that's something your supposed to do."
[sharp]
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I sip my tea pensively. Jane is sharper than I figured she'd be. "I find it's best to be more thorough than necessary when dealing with a case like this. Forgive me for insinuating, but it wouldn't happen to be the pub the four of you were at on the night of Miss Blood's disappearance?"
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n. 16 Leeson Street (Murphy)
Amy actually puts down her paints and sits on the bed, she looks visibly remorseful and nervous, her southern German accent comes out, "I didn't mean anything by it; but she seemed to be happy with the fellow and I had been drinking. It is an awful mistake, I know. Schisse. I am sure she is safe."
n. 21 Fitzwilliam (Colin)
"No," Jane replied, "I would hardly like to spend my spare time where I work, after all. I can't say I know Davy Byrne's too well, in truth. I had always assumed it was named after the owner..."
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I don't know much about Davy Byrne's other than its reputation for playing host to all sorts of erudite literary types, so I smile & nod and change the subject. "You mentioned a while back that Miss Blood could be aloof at times, and she seemed particularly reserved on the night she... on the night in question. How long have you known each other? Would you consider her the type of person to take risks or endanger herself voluntarily?"
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47-48 Temple Bar, Temple Bar Pub (Cormac)
The barman made his tipjar known, with a passing gesture as he handed Cormac his Cocktail.
"Miss Blood? She's not a regular by any means but I've seen her around a couple times. Decent tipper, good family, not like that new Falfner friend of hers," he paused at this point to make his distaste for that particular character known with a cough, "Shame about the whole affair but all I can only tell you that she left Temple Bar around seven or eight. I was on shift that night. I think they mentioned Davy Byrne's. Miss Blood was fond of the place, if I recall. I imagine she's less so now."
I drop a pound in the tip jar, cursing inwardly that I didn't ask to add expenses to my finder's fee. Not eating well tonight.
"Can you tell me anything about this Falfner? And Davy Byrne's."
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n. 21 Fitzwilliam (Colin)
"Nothing mad," Jane replies with haste.
She pauses for a moment to think how to reply in detail. It occurs to you that she doesn't often put much thought into this and is sort of running off a sense of youthful immortality.
"We have fun and go out," She says after the pause, "I suppose we don't worry too much about ourselves, but we aren't foolish about it. We keep an eye out and even with all that is going on right now, Dublin isn't too unsafe if you know your way around."
Finally she concludes, "We've known eachother for a long time. Since Primary, I think. Maths isn't my strong suit, but it is probably about ten years now?"
The way she ends her last sentance implies that she really hasn't really bothered counting it out specifically.
47-48 Temple Bar, Temple Bar Pub
"Honestly, I can't say anything worth your tip," He tosses you a enough shillings to count for change both for the cocktail and the tip; though he keeps about five to himself, "Falfner is one of those Nihilists, in from Germany after the war. Her and a small crowd are always loitering around somewhere. Their tips are awful, they order nothing and I wouldn't be surprised if one of the bastards was Black and Tan. All they do is ramble about Art and Nothingness. Shite company in a good pub."
He pauses, "Davy's is one of the Trinity Pubs. Students, Immigrants and the like all go there. Bohemian, I guess you could call it. Truth be told, you're better off here or in a good fish and chippers, depending on if you're hungry or dry."
"I don't think I could say too much more on either of them, unless you have something specific in mind."
He looks over at you curiously.
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Jane's words remind me of my own short-lived college days, not long past but well and truly over. I stifle a sigh in my teacup. "Well, Miss Willson, you've been a great help and I very much appreciate you taking the time out of your day on my account. I ought to be off, have a peek into Davy Byrne's. Could I trouble you for directions? I'm not normally in this part of town."
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"I'm sorry for snapping at you, it's just, she's lost and you seemed to not care at all, engrossed in your art. I'll be more courteous from now on miss. Can you think of anything at all, even a remote detail, that may help us find your friend?" I'm visually much more sympathetic and worried now.
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n. 21 Fitzwilliam (Colin)
Jane smiles, slightly awkwardly and nervously but genuinely.
She scribbles down directions and a map.
"Hopefully, this will take you there. It isn't too far from here and college students should at least know where it is."
She moves back to the table and holds out the sheet to Colin,
"Good luck. I hope the old girl is safe, I just can't imagine her afraid for her life..."
She tries to force the smile still, though it fades a moment after and she looks away.
n. 16 Leeson Street (Murphy)
You can see that she is still a little nervous, though focused on the conversation now, more so than before.
"Painting just helps my concentration," she explains, still she looks at Murphy rather apprehensively.
She pauses for a little while, seemingly deep in thought,
"There's nothing I think I could say to help you find her," She says with a slight pause as if measuring the words and weighing whether she should talk at all, "She did not do as much talking as she usually did. I could tell something was troubling her, but she does not talk about this sort of thing with me."
Her accent is slightly more hidden as she weighs the words and puts her hand gently over her shut mouth again as she thinks, "Fontaine is the last one to have seen her, and she says Eliza was with her boyfriend."
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"Rest assured, we're doing everything we can. I can say with confidence that Miss Blood will be back safe and sound in no time. Again, thank you ever so much." And with that I'm off, out the door and heading off to Duke Street as quick as I can go. When I get there, I plan to do some snooping around the outside, front and back if possible, before heading in.
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The priest blushes slightly at the imprecation. "Oh I am sorry good sir, not ideal way to begin a conversation. You see, it concerns one of your daughter's friends, miss Blood, I'm sure you know her. She has gotten caught up in some terrible business and your daughter was one of the last people seen with her. The good Colonel thought that rather than doing something as gouache as getting the constabulary involved, he might send someone of a higher standing to ascertain the details of the unfortunate business" At the mention of "Higher standing" the Priest adjusts his collar in a pointedly nonchalant fashion.
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"Sounds like poor company, but I suppose it's company I'll need to keep. What can you tell me about the owner of Davy's? These places usually have clientele associated with their owners."
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Davy Byrne's Pub
Colin looks around, scrounging for what he can, unfortunately, he finds little. Rather, he accidently knocks over a bin, spreading the trash over the back alley behind the pub. The smell is powerful and gets attached to him, or at least his legs, and alley cats emerge to scrounge what can be found.
4 Upper Mound Street (Shaemus)
He looks soften, at least enough to imply some grudging co-operation.
"My daughter, you understand is rather disturbed by all of this," He says with his accent, notably lowering the many of his "th"s in to "z"s unlike the Irish natives who prefer "t" and emphasizing syllables as though some words were French, "So I hope you will not be offended if I look over the proceedings."
With that, the man makes way for the priest, offering him in a guest.
Temple Bar
"I know him only by reputation, all be told," the Bartender said, "And most of that is only that he likes to surround himself with the artistic types. Though he'll settle for anyone smart looking in a pinch. I imagine though that it is for the sake of reputation and Trinity's business than any personal interest. Can't say more than that, in truth"
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"don't worry dear, I'm not here to interrogate you, Her father is worried sick is all. You know, for such a hard man, it's comforting to see he has a soft side."
"So, this boyfriend of hers? Her Father never mentioned him, would you be able to direct me to him? And, unless you can think of any other helpful information, then I'll be on my way I've stressed you unduly enough as it is."